


This is the part where (we lose it all)

by thisisallivegot



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Angst, Dom/sub, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki has a heart, M/M, MCD is in the first chapter, Subspace, but it gets better from there, nonlinear timeline
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:48:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22867375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisallivegot/pseuds/thisisallivegot
Summary: "“Anthony, can you hear me?”There is no response, and the same sharp pain lances through him again. He begins to pull off the armor, head piece first. Anthony would probably be annoyed with him later for messing up the suit, but medical care comes first, he knows that. Tony's eyes are closed, and Loki wants to ask JARVIS for medical info, but he can't hear him from here, and he can already tell the damage to the suit is too severe for it to transmit.So he reaches out with both his hand and his magic and touches his forehead. And then he stops, not understanding. It doesn't make sense. He can't feel the heat of him, the core of him, the sparks of energy that flow through every living life form. And that means..."
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Comments: 25
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's not Power of Need, but fic is fic... right?

It's been 273 days since his invasion of Midgard. Loki knows this in the back of his mind. It's been 273 days since he met Anthony. Right now, every day of trust that's built up between them matters. It's why Loki can kneel here, hands chained with metal that, thanks to Anthony's ingenuity, he actually can't break very easily. There's a dark cloth over his eyes that he can't see past. He can sense the room, and Anthony, with his magic, of course. That's a kind of sight into itself. But he doesn't feel the need to. There's a sense of peace here.

Anthony's sitting on the bed above him, hands absently swiping through what he had called a Starkpad. Loki wouldn't have considered him as a dom 273 days ago. But now there's an easiness between them, something that makes this moment soft. Maybe it's the custom pillow that he's kneeling on, green with a gold border, because Anthony had gotten it for him as a joke but he ended up actually liking it. Maybe it's how Anthony's hand keeps running over his head, a gentle reminder that he's pleased. Or maybe it's the way that Loki feels light to his core, like his insides are made of feathers, like everything is right with the world.

He doesn't know which it is. He doesn't care. It's been 273 days, but right now, there is only this moment, this soft, shimmering piece of reality that, had he been in a different state of mind, he might have wanted to preserve. There is no wrong here. There is no Thanos or Odin or Thor or the skittering things at the back of his mind that are always, always there. His world is a still pond.

And then a stone crashes through the water. Loud alarms are blaring and he opens his eyes, head jerking up. He doesn't otherwise move from his position. As he comes up a bit, he recognizes that alarm. It's the Avengers alarm, and it means they need to go. He waits where he is for permission.

“Jarvis, cut the alarm.” The sound stops suddenly, leaving a ringing sound in Loki's ears. “Loki, I need to go. Are you okay?”

Loki frowns. The world is still a bit hazy, but he knows that isn't right. “I'm fine. Let's go.”

Anthony shakes his head. “No. You need to stay here. I won't have you going out in the field while you're still half down.”

Loki wants to argue. He doesn't. “Yes, sir.”

“That's a good boy,” Anthony says, and Loki leans his head into the praise.

He closes his eyes again. Anthony bends down to take the cloth from his eyes. It slides gently over his skin. The world behind his eyelids grows brighter, but he keeps them closed. There is something magical here, in this moment. Then Anthony is moving again, walking behind him to unfasten the chains around his wrists. The skin feels pleasantly warm where he touches it. The fastenings fall away, but Loki leaves his hands where they are. Then Tony is in front of him again, squatting down so that they're at eye level.

“Loki, are you listening?”

“Yes, sir.” There is nothing else he can focus on, nothing else that he wants to.

Tony gives him a soft smile. “I have to go. Get on the bed, okay?”

Loki nods, letting his hands hang down and press against the ground as he slowly pushes himself up. He's lightheaded, but it's a good feeling. He climbs onto the bed, laying down on one of Tony's plush pillows. Tony pulls the covers over him.

“You're so good, Loki.”

He opens his eyes to see Tony looking down at him in a way that he can't quite place, but he knows it looks something like love. He thinks about telling him so, but Tony speaks again before he can.

“I'll be back as soon as I can. You can take a nap if you want.”

Loki hums, already half asleep. He knows that he is safe here, and he wants for nothing. He drifts, something warm running through his veins, until even the light world of wakefulness shifts to unconsciousness.

–

He wakes slowly, like moving through molasses, for just a moment unsure of where he is. He opens his eyes, then realizes JARVIS is (has been?) speaking to him with a tone that belies more concern than a machine should be capable of.

“Mr. Liesmith, I must insist you wake up. Sir is-”

He cuts off, and Loki sits up in bed, the trappings of sleep finally falling away from him. “What is it, JARVIS?”

“Sir needs you. Now.”

Now he sounds urgent, almost panicked, and Loki is already changing into his armor before he's even thought it through. He teleports to where he knows Anthony is, to help him with whatever he needs. Of course he'll always be there. They'll always be there for each other.

Except...

Except Anthony is lying on the street, and Loki can't see him moving from here. Something sharp spikes through his chest as he gets closer. The Iron Man armor is heavily damaged, the head dented in a way that's sure to mean a concussion (if not worse), and Loki hurries, kneeling down beside him.

“Anthony, can you hear me?”

There is no response, and the same sharp pain lances through him again. He begins to pull off the armor, head piece first. Anthony would probably be annoyed with him later for messing up the suit, but medical care comes first, he knows that. Tony's eyes are closed, and Loki wants to ask JARVIS for medical info, but he can't hear him from here, and he can already tell the damage to the suit is too severe for it to transmit.

So he reaches out with both his hand and his magic and touches his forehead. And then he stops, not understanding. It doesn't make sense. He can't feel the heat of him, the core of him, the sparks of energy that flow through every living life form. And that means...

The world is fuzzy again, for entirely different reasons. He glances up at the battle still raging around him. It moves too slow, just like waking up all over again. Then he looks back down, and Tony's still unmoving, still no life signs, still... dead.

He lets out a scream, guttural, the rage and grief fighting each other to claw their way up through his stomach and out his throat, sharp, an explosion of pain, and then -

Then he's up in the air, his magic pulsing out with his screams, without aim, without control, just... out. All of the people around him, allies and enemies and civilians alike are staring at him, slack-jawed, but he doesn't notice. There is only his pain, only the image of Tony's still face stuck in his mind, only the unbridled hate towards whoever did this, whoever hurt, whoever killed Tony, his dom, his love, the light in his world.

He forces himself to focus, to really take stock of the situation. He zeros in on the villain, another magic user, one he hasn't seen before. The rest of the Avengers are either too injured to fight or barely holding on. He can't see Clint, but there are no arrows flying, so he has to assume he's out of the fight. Natasha is lying slumped against a building, the impact crater behind her speaking of a wound that she probably won't survive. Hulk is nowhere to be seen, and only Steve is engaging with the villain, but even he's in bad shape.

It doesn't matter. He doesn't care about any of these people except in the sense of their relation to Tony, and that isn't real anymore. You can't have a relationship with a dead man. So he teleports to the villain – tall, blond, starting a monologue that he doesn't care about and tunes out. A pulse of magic sends Captain America flying from the area, so only the two of them are facing each other.

Loki thinks the man is still trying to talk, but his ears are ringing like there's been an explosion, and he can't think straight. This man killed his lover. He doesn't know his purpose here. He doesn't care. He lashes out with raw magic, too encased in grief to fight with any finesse, which the man blocks with a shield. Loki screams again, shoving a wall of magic toward him. The man is hit with it, and it knocks him back a few feet. Loki hits him with blast after blast of magic, letting out his pain, uncaring of what it looks like or what he's doing to him or of any consequences to his actions. There is blood between them, but he isn't sure who it belongs to. He hasn't even registered that the man has been attacking him back.

But then the magic isn't enough and he lets go of it, swinging forward to punch him instead, so different from his usual fighting style, but he is Asgardian and has the strength to prove it. The villain starts to fall, but Loki grabs him, hitting him again, blood staining his knuckles, then again and again and again until his face looks less like flesh and more like raw meat. Dead, he realizes. Like Anthony.

He lets him drop, uncaring where he lands, uncaring about any of the others. He lets himself float back down toward where Anthony's body lays on the pavement. He doesn't even have the energy to teleport anymore. It's all drained suddenly, at the sight of his lover again. Loki hits his knees beside him, and the position doesn't feel like comfort anymore. It feels like defeat.

He is crying, tears that haven't seen the light of day in 200 years slipping down his cheeks, sure of their place here to mourn the most important man in the realms. Loki stares at him, reaches out to touch, his hand caressing his cheek, still tender, even now. He brushes his hair to the side, out of his face, the strands matted together with thick blood.

He is on his knees again, and again, there is only this moment. The world is narrowed down to the right now, to Anthony, to the man who should have been a god, who deserved so much better than this. He lowers himself down gently until he's laying on the ground beside him, then pulls him close, holding him one last time.

The Iron Man armor is hard against him, jutting out in all the wrong places, but he doesn't even notice. He cradles Anthony – his body – tight to his chest, wanting, needing, desperate to hold on to these last moments. There is no fixing this. There is no future, no rest of the world, no reason to go on. Later, he will have to make decisions and plans.

But for now, he lays there, his lover curled tight against him, and he mourns.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back to the beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I'm neglecting my other fics for this, but inspiration is inspiration. At least that's what I keep telling myself.

Day 1 – The Invasion

The moment the missile hits the Chitauri ship, Loki's knees buckle beneath him. He's free of the Other's influence in his mind, and he gasps sharply at the feel of his hooks leaving his psyche. There will be consequences and questions to answer and reconciliations to make, but for now, he is free, and his magic surges upward in jubilation. Laughter bubbles up out of his lips and despite the Avengers gathered around staring at him, he feels good, better than he has in a long time, better than he has since before the fall.

And sure, he's a little broken from the whole experience. Sure, he aches for a hug and some centering, the comfort and peace of knowing that there's somewhere he belongs. But none of that matters right now. Right now he is free and alive and even Thor is looking at him with something less like rage and more like pity, and he knows he should hate that, but oh, how he had missed his brother during his time with Thanos. How he had called out for him for the first few weeks until he had been broken, convinced that he wasn't coming. And he hadn't come. But he is here now, and Loki is here too, and the corpses of the Chitauri around them are meaningless. He is delighted.

He doesn't resist as he's taken into captivity by the people who were fighting him so recently, even though he could easily break away. He is willing to talk and to listen, and if he doesn't like what they have to say (or vice versa), he figures he can leave then. The branches are Yggardrisil are just a whisper away now that his magic is free and fully his again. But right now there's a cell made of glass, though incredibly reinforced it seems, and the humans seem to take some comfort in thinking that they can contain him.

He waits and waits while they talk, but he doesn't mind. Eventually, Thor is the first to come to him. He wants to be angry, to focus on the fall and his parentage and the war on Joteunheim, but more than anything he wants to hug his brother. He hasn't done that in many years, since they were children, but things are different now. But he is in this cage for a purpose, so even though he and Thor both know he could escape it between one breath and the next, he stays put.

“Loki,” Thor says, and if he did have any anger, it melts away at the sound of his name on his brother's lips.

“Thor,” he replies, and in it is the sound of wonder.

“I can tell you are different now than you were when you first came to Midgard.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “I am. I am free.”

Thor nods. “I do not know what you mean, but I am glad that you seem to be yourself again. I have many questions, but now is not the time for them. I've been told that there are laws here on Midgard that state that a submissive may only be questioned by another submissive, so as not to be overly influenced by a dominant. While we are here on Midgard, we will abide by their customs. So someone will be here soon to ask you questions. I ask that you cooperate with them.”

“I intend to,” Loki tells him honestly. He wishes to make peace with these people.

It isn't long before the foretold woman comes in. She looks competent and she carries a weapon that she probably thinks would have a chance against him, but she doesn't look overly eager to use it, so he isn't concerned.

“Mr. Odinson, if you could leave us alone?” The words are definitely a request, but Thor takes them with grace.

“Loki, I will be close by if you need me.”

“Thank you,” he says, and he means it.

The woman turns toward him. “My name is Maria Hill. I'm an agent of SHIELD. It's Loki, right?”

“Yes,” he agrees.

“I have some questions for you,” she continues.

He waits for her to keep talking, sure that that much was obvious already.

“But first, why don't you tell me your version of events?”

She is quiet, non-threatening, and he's glad to tell her – as glad as he can be, given the subject matter. Even so, when he tries to speak, the words just don't quite come out. He shakes his head.

“Loki, I want to help you, but you have to cooperate with me. We all want the same thing here, which is to get you out and back to your normal life. Right?”

He shakes his head again. “Of course. It's not that I don't wish to tell you. It's just...” He hesitates. “A bit complicated.”

She nods. “That's okay. I have nowhere else to be.”

He thinks that's probably false, and that he could definitely wait her out, given mortals much-limited life span, but he doesn't want to. Not here, not today.

“There was a man,” he starts. “If you can call him that.” He takes a deep breath. “His name is Thanos. No, let's start earlier.”

She waits for him patiently, letting the silence speak for her.

“I... fell, from the Bifrost.” _I let go_ , his mind supplies, but he ignores it. “Do you know what the Bifrost is? It's been a while since I've been to Midgard.”

Maria nods. “We do.”

“Well, I fell. I expected to die, but instead, I fell and fell and fell until I thought that was all there was for the rest of my very long life.” He wishes it had been. “But the Other – one of Thanos henchmen – found me, and then...” He breaks off, eyes shifting to the side.

She nods, but still gives him space. When he doesn't continue after a few moments, she prompts, “And then?”

Loki takes a deep breath. “I do not wish to give the details; suffice it to say that my time with them was particularly unpleasant. Then, once they had broken me... Well, that's when I found out about the mind stone.”

Maria raises her eyebrows and he realizes that she has at least heard of it. He hadn't expected the mortals to know anything about the Infinity Stones, but it doesn't really make a difference.

“It's not mind control, exactly,” he continues. “It's more like a very strong influence. It's not that you're forced to do what they wish. It's just that you don't wish to do anything else.”

“And what was it you wished to do?” She asked.

“Ah, that's not really the right terminology at all. I didn't...” He shook his head. “What they wanted was another one of the Infinity Stones. I believe you have it here on Midgard. And from your reaction earlier, it seems you already know about it.”

She just stares, giving nothing away. Or trying not to, at least. He knows better than that, knows how to read people and he can see right through her.

“There's no point in lying to me,” he tells her. “I'm the god of lies, after all.”

That doesn't actually mean that he can sense them, but experience and years of studying means that he generally has a pretty good idea of them.

“Let's get back to this Thanos figure.”

He takes the redirection for what it is. “As I said, he wanted another of the Infinity Stones. He sent me here with an army to take it.”

“The Chitauri army,” she prompts.

“Yes. I believe you know what happened from there.”

She processes that for a moment. “You seem pretty damn happy for someone who failed.”

He shakes his head. “I am happy because I am free of their influence. My mind is my own again. I do not see it as a failure; I see it as a relief.”

She hums, but doesn't say anything for a time. When she does speak, it's with purpose. “Why should we trust you?”

He shrugs. “I don't particularly care if you do.”

That may not be entirely true. He wants to be at peace with these mortals. Their lives are so short compared to his, so it doesn't really matter, but he's not mentally at a place where he wants to fight. Asgard doesn't want him – or if it does, he doesn't want it – and no other place really feels like home. There's Vaneheim, where his mother (still his mother, despite it all) is from, and that has it's appeal, but for right now, just for once, he'd like to be here with these people who fought so hard for their own lives. There is a certain beauty to these mortals, and he wishes to explore it, at least for a time.

Maria stops for a moment, and he finally realizes that she's listening to something. There must be someone in her ear telling her what to say. That's irksome – he really prefers to have someone's full attention - but not that big of a deal in the grand scheme of things, so he doesn't comment.

“Tell us more about this Thanos figure you keep mentioning.”

“No.” She raises her eyebrows at him, but he continues without pause. “He is gone now, and reliving my...” he searches for the word, “...trauma,” he decides, “will do no good for anyone.”

She's silent for a moment, listening again. Loki lets her. His happiness at his newfound freedom is beginning to fade into annoyance at her, but he knows it isn't her fault, so he lets it be.

Eventually, she sighs. “Loki, why are you here? Your brother said that you could leave this place easily, without us being able to do a thing to stop you. So why have you stayed?”

He thinks about his answer for a moment. He knows the truth, somewhat, but he isn't sure that this is something he wants to share with her. He decides to be honest.

“I want to live among your people for a while, without having to run and hide.” He shrugs. “I can and will if I have to, but I would prefer to be on friendly terms with you.”

She nods. “That's all the questions I have for now. Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

He smiles. “Thank you. I want to tell you thank you.”

She turns without a word and exits the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts, which are finally his for a change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not the first meeting, but it's pretty close.

Eventually, someone else comes to him. He expects it to be Thor again, but instead, it's another mortal. Tony Stark, his mind supplies – the Man of Iron. He remembers the time spent in his home before he defenestrated him, and though it was not a good time for either of them in general, Loki does recall it somewhat fondly, if only for the cleverness and sass of the man. That doesn't mean he isn't surprised to see him here now.

“Hey, Loki-doki.”

In another time, at another place, he might have killed or at least maimed this man for his impertinence to a prince of Asgard (of Jotunheim), but now and here, he just laughs.

“Hello, Stark. Come to see the man who threw you out a window?”

Stark's smile is all teeth, but it isn't unwelcoming. “There are no windows in here, I'm afraid. It will be difficult to make a repeat performance.”

He returns the smile. “Pity that. You looked so good falling.”

Something shadowed falls overs Stark's face and he regrets goading him. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.”

Stark shakes his head. “I wouldn't be in the position I am today if I couldn't take a good barb. Besides, I don't think you really meant any harm, did you? I think if you wanted to, you could do much better than that.”

Loki wants for a moment to prove it to him, but he pushes it aside. He has no quarrel with this man. Instead, he simply inclines his head in acknowledgment.

Stark smiles again, a gentler thing this time. “They tell me that you want to stay here.”

“For a certain definition of the word, yes. I want to stay on Midgard, but in this cell, not so much. But I'm willing to stay here for a while until you mortals can decide how you feel about me and what I've done. Unless you've come to tell me their decision?”

There's something sharp behind Stark's gaze. “I don't actually work for them, nor do I particularly care what they think.”

Loki hums in response, not sure where he's going with this. “So why have you come here?”

“I would like to make you an offer.”

“One I can't refuse?” he asks, mirth dancing in his eyes.

Stark barks out a laugh. “Hardly. From what I understand, you're in a position to do basically whatever you like.”

That's not exactly true. The Other and Thanos, are still out there, and they'll be gunning for his blood. But for now, that doesn't matter. He does have a lot of power in this situation, probably more than the mortals even realize. Except for Stark, apparently. He spreads his arms in a show of openness.

“Then what's your offer?”

The smile full of teeth is back and Loki has a brief image of them biting into his shoulder. He ignores it.

“I want you to come to stay with me.”

Loki's eyebrows rise of their accord. This is not something he had expected or accounted for, but he's not sure that it's an unwelcome offer. “With you, personally?”

Stark nods. “Yep. Like at my tower.”

The tower Loki had thrown him out of just hours before. He laughs. This man clearly has no sense of self-preservation. He likes that about him.

“And what do the rest of your merry band of heroes think about this?”

Stark shrugs. “Didn't ask.”

Loki stares for a moment, considering. “Is my staying worth the possibility of them attacking you?”

It's Stark's turn to laugh, and he finds he likes the sound. “I can defend myself. And you've proven that you can too. Together...” He trails off, but the implication is clear.

Loki shakes his head. Stark is ridiculous, and he feels helpless in the face of that, the exact opposite of the kind of helplessness he had felt with Thanos. This helplessness is almost pleasant. He pretends to think it over, but he already knows what his answer will be. He might want to stay among these mortals, but none of them interest him as much as Stark. The man is sharp, and witty, and from what Barton had said he has an intellect to rival even Loki's. (That's not likely, but oh, does he want to find out.)

Before he's able to say anything, the doors open again and Thor re-enters, this time followed by a tall black man that reeks of being in charge. Loki immediately dislikes him.

“I'm Director Nick Fury,” the tall man starts, but Stark cuts him off.

“Nick Fury, SHIELD's resident pirate, blah blah blah. He doesn't care.” Loki is inclined to agree, but waits to see how this plays out. “In fact, Reindeer Games and I were just about to leave.”

He doesn't understand the nickname. It's something to investigate later. For now, he stares at Stark. He still hasn't given his answer, but Stark seems to know what it was always going to be, just the same.

“Stark,” Fury starts again, obviously tired of him already, “You can't claim an international criminal just because he suits your fancy.”

“Okay, first, you definitely don't get to tell me what to do-”

He's cut off by Thor. “Director Fury is right, Man of Iron. My brother is not a prize to be claimed. He has been through much, and there's much that I need to discuss with him.”

“And you can discuss it with me later,” Loki cuts in smoothly. All eyes turn to him. “For now, as Stark says, we are leaving.”

Fury and Thor both narrow their eyes at him, but Stark just grins, bright as the sun, and he knows that this is going to be the best decision he's made in a long time.

“Right then. Can someone let him out of this cage?” Stark says.

“Don't bother,” Loki responds.

Then he teleports, moving past the cell's wall as though it were non-existent. Fury puts a hand on his gun, but Loki ignores it. It won't do him any harm.

Loki turns back to Stark. “Where to, then?”

“My tower. I can call a suit if you want to fly there.”

“No need.”

Loki takes three steps toward him, hears Thor's plaintive “Brother-”, then teleports them both into the tower that he was so recently in in very different circumstances.

Stark stumbles upon arrival (teleportation is always difficult the first time), but keeps his feet. He laughs, a sound of pure delight.

“Oh, they are going to be _pissed._ ” He says the last word with glee.

“Was that your plan, then? To steal me away just to make your friends angry?”

Stark frowns at the word 'friends', but doesn't comment. “No. It's just a perk.”

There is so much to discover there, so much left unsaid, but it's not the time to push. He looks around the room. He teleported them into the same room they had been in earlier, as it was the easiest, but he hadn't really had time to pay attention to it before. Now his eyes rove over it, taking in details - the couch, expensive, but the pillows are all mussed; the windows, one still broken, cool air drifting in through it; then finally the bar, Stark's half-full glass still sitting on it.

Stark's eyes follow his. “Ah, I did promise you a drink, didn't I?”

“Sir, are you sure that's a good idea?” a voice prompts from nowhere. Loki vaguely remembers hearing it the last time he was here, but the memories are clouded.

“Nope!” Stark says, chipper. “What's your poison, princess?” He walks toward the bar.

The term 'princess' is pronounced like it's meant to be an insult, but he's not sure why it would be. He _is_ a princess, at least at times. He shakes it off. One more thing to ask about later.

“I'm not familiar with your Midgardian drinks,” he admits.

“Well, what do you like? Sweet, bitter, fruity?” He rummages through bottles as he speaks.

“Sweet and fruity.”

“Let's try Sangria, then. I don't have many wines - not generally my choice of drink - but I want your first experience with human drinks to be a good one.”

When Loki doesn't argue, Stark grabs a tall bottle and a thin glass with a long stem. The liquid he pours is deep red, and Loki finds he likes the smell. Stark offers the glass to him, holding it by the stem, and Loki inclines his head, but takes the drink. Stark immediately turns back to the bar, moving to get his own drink.

“I prefer Scotch, myself, but I don't think it'd be right for you.”

He grabs a shorter glass and pours a brown liquid into, drinking it quickly and then pouring more. He lets that glass sit, and turns back to Loki. Loki looks down at his own drink consideringly, then takes a sip. It's good, though weaker than the drinks he's used to. He doesn't mind. He doesn't intend to get drunk right now. Nonetheless, he sips it again, looking at Stark over the rim of his glass. Stark stares unabashedly back.

“So what now?” Loki asks.

“Sir, Director Fury is on the line.”

“Ignore it.”

“Is that wise? If you don't answer, surely they will come here.”

Stark shrugs. “Let them.”

“So your...” he searches for the right word. “... spirit.”

Stark is quiet for a moment, processing what he said. “Oh! You mean JARVIS?”

“The voice, yes?”

Stark lets out peels of laughter, almost doubling over with the force of it. “I've heard him called many things, but 'spirit' is not one of them.”

“Sir, Steve Rogers is on the line.”

“Ignore. So JARVIS-”

“Sir, Miss Romanov is on the line.”

Stark sighs. “Put her through.” There's an audible click. “Natalie! So nice to hear from you. It seems like it's been so long since we've seen each other.”

His voice is full of false warmth, and Loki smiles despite himself.

“What are you thinking, Stark?” Her voice is much colder.

“I wanted him. He wanted to come. You can't have him back.”

Loki can't hear the sigh, but he knows that Romanov has made it. He starts to interject that he means no harm, but she speaks again before he can.

“Is he there with you?”

Stark looks over at him, the question clear in his face. Does he want Romanov to know where he is?

“Loki, can you hear me?”

No sense hiding it. He had announced where he was going, after all. “Yes, I can hear you.”

“You told us that you wished to cooperate. If that's changed...” She trails off.

“I have cooperated,” he argues. “I came to your facility. I answered your questions. I never said that I wouldn't take my leave when I was ready.”

There's silence as she apparently confers with someone on the other end of the line.

“What are your plans?” she redirects, changing tactics.

He thinks for a moment. He hasn't really made any beyond this moment. He answers her question indirectly.

“I don't mean you or your world any harm.”

She is silent again, before eventually saying “Good. Because if you do, we will be here to fight you, and you will not win.”

He knows this is untrue. If he had been in full control of his facilities during the invasion, they would have had no chance against him. From the look on Stark's face, he knows this too.

“Oh, and Stark? You may think this is some game, but if it goes bad, it's coming out of your ass.”

“Love you too,” Stark says, all the false warmth back. “JARVIS, cut call.”

There is another click and Stark looks back at him. “Well, that was fun.”

He really does agree.


	4. Trust

**Day 10**

“Mr. Liesmith,” JARVIS begins, “Sir is ordering something for dinner and wants to know if you would like anything.” 

“Where is he?”

“In his lab, sir.” JARVIS waits for a moment. “Shall I ask him if you're allowed access?”

“No need.” 

Between one breath and the next he's standing in the lab. “Hello, Stark.” 

Stark jumps, then hisses in pain. “Fuck, Loki. You know we have doors here on Earth, right?”

Loki ignores him. “Where are you hurt?”

Stark looks down, seemingly seeing the injury for the first time. “My hand,” he says, holding it up for inspection. “I was soldering and dropped the iron. No big deal. I've had worse.”

Loki steps forward to examine the skin. It's a harsh red, but he doesn't seem to be missing too much skin. It isn't a bad burn, but Loki feels bad for causing it, none-the-less. 

“May I touch it?”

Stark frowns at him, pulling his hand back. “Why?” 

“I can heal it.” He resists the urge to reach for the appendage again, waiting, giving Stark his space. 

Stark stares, wariness clear on his face. “With magic?”

Loki rolls his eyes. “What else?”

“I don’t know what kind of fancy healing stuff you have up there in god land.” He turns back to the table, hands already working on something again. “No thank you. I’ve seen what your magic can do.”

Loki face shutters closed, though Stark can’t see it. “My magic can do many things-”

“So did you want something for dinner?” Stark asks, cutting off his explanation.

Loki stares at his back. It’s not that he isn’t used to people being rude to him, much less belittling his magic. It’s just that from this man, he had some foolish thought that it might be different. 

“No.”  
  


**Day 42**

They’re working in the lab together, Stark on one of his Iron Man suits, and Loki on a spell that he’s been trying to perfect for months. He’s not working on it so much as he is reading, at the moment. For the most part, after studying centuries worth of magic, there isn’t much theory left to learn. But it never hurts to brush up on things, especially when a spell just isn’t quite working right like this one. 

It’s meant to change a live being into another live being. He can transmute objects easily, and he can certainly create an illusion of a living being into a different one, but when it comes down to actually doing it, he falls short. The problem is to do with the soul of the creature. It’s easier to do with a simpler consciousness, like a flower into a bush. But when it comes to more complex things like animals, he just can’t quite mold the essence in the right way. He’s nowhere near being able to change humans. That’s something that will take many more centuries to learn, if he’s ever able to do it at all. 

He frowns at the book, forcing his gaze away. He looks up at Stark. He’s caught up in his work, seemingly unaware that Loki is even in the same room with him. It’s interesting to watch him work. It’s fascinating to see the way he works with his holograms and computers, fingers deftly drawing here and swiping there in order to manipulate screens and models to do what he wants them to.

But it’s equally captivating to watch him do more physical work. He leaves a lot of the heavy lifting to JARVIS, but sometimes he does it himself, especially the more detailed work. Right now he’s hammering at something. Loki isn’t sure what it is, but it doesn’t really matter. What he’s staring at is the movement of his arms, the way the deltoid bulges as he swings the tool. There’s a certain grace to Stark that most people don’t see. 

He looks back down at his book. The words there are unchanged, but their meaning seems to be lost to him for now. He feels tired.

“JARVIS, what time is it?” 

“It is 4:32 am, Mr. Liesmith.” 

“Thank you.” He waits a moment for Stark to react, but he doesn’t. “Stark.” 

A few more moments, but still no response.

“Stark,” he tries again.

“Oh, for Norn’s sake.” He makes his way over to the table where he’s working, standing right beside him. “Stark!” 

“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t even look up. 

“It’s late. You should go to bed.”

“Sure. Soon.” He looks around his workspace. “I need...”

Loki sees him begin to reach for a tool, but it’s just outside of his reach. Loki grabs it, and hands it to him. Without thought, Stark takes it. 

“Thanks.”

Loki lets him work for a few minutes more before trying again. “Stark. It’s time for bed now.” 

He finally looks up, frowning. “JARVIS, when did I last sleep?”

“It’s been 31 hours, Sir.” 

“Yeah, okay. Thanks, Loki. See you tomorrow?” 

“I’d like that.” 

**Day 179**

They’re tangled together in a mess of limbs, sweat rapidly cooling on their bodies. Loki’s feels vulnerable, but in a good way. Stark is tracing patterns on the back of his shoulder, but he can’t make out what they are. He hums into the skin of his chest. 

“You okay?” Stark asks.

“Yes,” Loki answers. 

He lets the word fade into the silence, not feeling the need to follow it up with any more detail. Stark continues to hold him, bringing his other hand up to card gently through Loki’s hair. It’s soothing, and he closes his eyes as he relaxes even further into the sensation. This is as almost as good as the sex itself had been.

It doesn’t take much longer for him to fall asleep.

He wakes up to the bed dipping beside him. Stark is trying to ease his way back under the covers. Loki wakes up more fully and sits up. 

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Stark tells him. “I just had to pee.” 

Loki shakes his head. There’s something sharp missing from him. “I should go anyway.”

Stark inclines his head, but doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Loki resists the urge to squirm under his gaze. He’s used to seeing right into the heart of people. It’s uncomfortable the other way around. He looks away first.

Stark brings his arms up around him, holding him loosely around the shoulders. He could easily get away if he wanted to, but the touch is comforting more than confining. He lets himself relax into the hold. 

“Stay.”

Loki does. Once they lay back down, it takes awhile for his heartbeat to slow down again, but it does, and they drift off to sleep together. Stark is still there when he wakes up in the morning.  
  


**Day 162**

“We have to talk about this.”

“No, we don’t,” Loki sneers. 

“There’s nothing wrong with-”

“I know that.” 

They stare at each in tense silence. 

“Come here.” 

Stark’s voice is firm, and Loki finds himself walking over before he can think it through. He looks away. 

“Why are you so anxious about this all of a sudden? You knew I was a dominant when you moved in here.” 

“Yes, but I didn’t mean to-”

“Then why did you?”

The silence stretches over them. “I was cold.”

He doesn’t explain what that means. He doesn’t explain that he dreamed of Jotunheim and woke up with his teeth chattering. He doesn’t explain that he just wanted to feel like he had a place that he belonged, just for a few minutes, even if it was a lie. He doesn’t explain that last night, on his knees, head resting against Stark’s thigh, was a moment of weakness. A moment of comfort. He just grits his teeth and refuses to make eye contact. 

Stark gives him space. He waits to see if he will say more, and when he doesn’t, Stark doesn’t reach for him, although he’s well within distance that he could. 

“If this isn’t something you want, that’s fine. I’m not going to force you into something you’re not comfortable with.”

But he does want it, is the problem, more than he has ever wanted anyone else. He has had plenty of the taste of submission in his life, but never with someone like Stark. Last night it was clearer. There was less of the muddy feeling of doubt clouding the inside of his head. He doesn’t explain that either. 

“I’m not seeing anyone else,” Stark offers. “So if you just want this to be a once in a while thing, that’s fine. It doesn’t have to be more than you want it to. If you even want it to be anything.” 

He stares straight at Loki, and Loki thinks he sees through him. He isn’t sure yet if that’s an unpleasant feeling or not. He still doesn’t want to be having this conversation. 

“You can have some time to think about it, if that’s what you need.”

Loki doesn’t answer at first. He doesn’t know what he wants to say. Everything is all muddled up inside him, and he doesn’t know how to begin teasing out the strands of chaos that have made their home inside his chest. Eventually he just nods.

“Okay. So do you want to join me in the workshop?”

 _Yes_ , he thinks.

“No,” he says.

Stark continues to stare him down, unflinching, and Loki gives up first, breaking away to teleport back to his room without warning in a way that he hasn’t done in weeks. This is too real. Too vulnerable. He doesn’t want any part in it. He lays down in his bed and stares at the ceiling for a long time. Stark doesn’t call him back. 

**Day 56**

“Can I scan your magic?” 

Loki looks up from what he’s doing in the corner of the workshop. “Why?” 

Stark shrugs. “I want to understand it.” 

Loki considers it. Considers what he could do with the knowledge and how it could harm him. He doesn't know enough about Midgardian science to say one way or another, and he frowns at Stark as he works through the possibilities. He begins to shake his head, but he’s already speaking.

“You may.” 

Stark rubs his hands together. “Yes! Okay, come stand over here.” 

He points to a spot near the middle of the workshop and Loki makes his way over there obligingly.

“What now?”

“Nothing, yet. I just want to get some basic measurements.” 

Loki stands still and lets him instruct JARVIS to do whatever it is he thinks is necessary. After a few minutes, JARVIS announces that he’s done.

“Great,” Stark says, hands already busy. “So to start with, tell me what’s different. What’s not human?”

“His basic anatomy is the same, but everything seems to be stronger. Not only his muscles, but even his organs seem to be made sturdier than a human’s. Another point of interest is that his core body temperature seems to be much lower than normal.”

Loki’s blood rushes in his ears at that. He knows what it means, but Stark doesn’t. Will he figure it out? He’s talking again, unaware of the battle going on in Loki’s mind.

“Huh. I wonder if that’s all Asgardians. I’ve never gotten scans of Thor. Maybe we can do that next week when he’s back on Earth.” 

“I think that is enough for today,” Loki says, fighting to keep his voice even.

“What? We’ve barely even started.”

“I don’t feel well,” Loki says, even though the only thing wrong is the disgust for himself and the fear that Stark will find out his secret and- “I should go.” 

“Yeah, okay. Let JARVIS know if you need anything.”

“I will.” 

He doesn’t.  
  


**Day 231**

Loki is pacing on the roof of the tower, fists clenched as he argues with himself. He knows it is time. It’s past time. Stark deserves to know the truth about the monster that’s living with him. He has hope that it will go well. He expects that it won’t. 

“JARVIS, are you set up for audio up here?”

“Yes, Mr. Liesmith. How can I help you?”

“Where’s Anthony?”

“He is in the penthouse. Should I ask him if he is open to your company?”

“Yes, please.”

He wrings his hands together in the resulting silence. Normally he would just show up, but this is an important moment, and he doesn’t want it to start out with Anthony being annoyed with him. It seems like a long time before JARVIS answers back.

“He says you’re welcome to come in.”

He takes a deep breath in through his nose. The winter air up here burns his nostrils, and it’s just one more reminder of what he is, and what he has to do now. Steeling himself, he teleports to the penthouse. Anthony, reclining on the sofa, turns to look at him.

“Hey, Lokes. What’s up?”

He takes another deep breath, trying to force air into his lungs even as they feel like they’re constricting. 

“I need to tell you something.”

Anthony turns more fully toward him, a frown on his face. “Do you want to come sit down?”

Loki isn’t sure. He wants to be close to him for the comfort, but he just has this idea of Anthony being so repulsed when he finds out the truth and shoving him away, and he’s just not sure that he can handle it. 

“I’ll stand,” he decides. 

“Okay. What is it?” 

Loki closes his eyes tightly for a moment. When he opens them again they’re slightly moist. He ignores it. 

“I know Thor mentioned that I was...” He hesitates. “Adopted.” The word tastes like ash on his tongue.

“Yeah, a long time ago. What about it?”

“It is not...” He stops, then starts again. “It is not that simple.” 

“Okay,” Tony says, clearly waiting on him to say more.

Loki isn’t sure that he is able to. “I am not an Asgardian.”

“Oh?” 

Tony sounds intrigued of all things, but Loki knows deep down in his soul that that will change once he understands the truth. 

“I am... I am a Frost Giant, Tony.”

Tony stares for a moment, and Loki waits for the condemnation that he knows is coming. Instead, Tony just blinks at him.

“Like from Jotunheim?” 

Loki nods, unable to find his words. 

“Cool.”

It is Loki’s turn to stare, mouth gaping open. That’s his response? He must not understand. He didn’t want it to come to this but... 

“I can show you.”

“Show me? How?”

His breath shudders out of him as he lets Odin’s glamor fade from him. His white skin turns to blue, and he can feel the dark lines and bumps coming up all over his body. Tony’s eyes grow wide. Loki shuts his again, unwilling to look at the harsh judgement that’s definitely coming. It’s quiet for too long.

“I’m sorry, Tony. I know I should have told you earlier. I will go.”

His heart is breaking, even though he expected this outcome. How could it have gone any other way? He had wanted to stay here, at this place that he had come to think of as his home, with this man that he loved. But that was obviously a foolish dream. Once his heritage was revealed, there was no way things could have stayed the same. He prepares to teleport away, unsure of where he’s even going to go, but Tony’s voice stops him.

“Loki, you’re beautiful.”

He opens his eyes, the breath rushing out of his lungs in one big whoosh. “What?”

“You’re gorgeous. Why haven’t you showed me this before? Can I call Steve to come draw you? No, better yet, can I have a picture?”

Loki doesn’t answer, still staring at him awestruck.

“Okay, maybe later on the picture. Can I... Can I touch you?”

Loki grimaces. He isn’t sure if his skin will burn a human’s. “It is not a good idea.”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you’re comfortable with. So tell me why this was such a big deal for you. This has obviously been eating at you for awhile.”

Loki shakes his head, understanding still not slotting into place for him. “How can you... They are... I am a monster.” 

Something like pity crosses Tony’s face, and Loki hates it. He knows how despicable he is. 

“You’re not a monster, Loki. Your race, your skin color, they don’t define who you are. Only you can decide that. I know who you are, and I love you.”

There’s something wet on his face, and his lungs feel like they’re finally getting air again. 

“I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me ontumblr


End file.
